


Bad Romance

by dovingbird



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…” It doesn't matter how long Colton tries to hold it back, because God's not doing a dang thing to change it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Romance

**Author's Note:**

> This came about after I asked for prompts via Tumblr during AI S11's run and someone suggested I write pieces based on the songs that the people sang from week to week. This happens to be the only one I wrote for that challenge, haha, but it was worth finishing, I think.

"Our Father who art in Heaven..."  
  
 _I can't do this._  
  
"...hallowed be Thy name."  
  
 _I can't._  
  
"Thy kingdom come..."  
  
 _Oh, sweet Jesus..._  
  
"...Thy will be done..."  
  
 _...I'm begging you..._  
  
"...on Earth, as it is in Heaven."  
  
His voice trembled as he whispered the words, his hand wrapped so tightly around his crucifix necklace that he felt the pointy edges stabbing into his palm.  
  
"Give us this day our daily bread..."  
  
He slowed to a halt. For a moment, he breathed. He breathed methodically. In. And out. In...and out...  
  
"...give us this day our daily bread..."  
  
 _Keep going. You have to keep going._  
  
"...a-and forgive us our trespasses..."  
  
 _Almost there..._  
  
"...as we forgive those who trespass against us..."  
  
He had a momentum going. He had to push. Push push pushpushpushpush-  
  
"...and lead us-"  
  
He choked. He keeled over and coughed desperately, over and over and over, tears rising in his eyes, sandpaper scraping at his neck, until he could breathe again.  
  
He couldn't say it. _Jesus_ , how he wanted to say it. But he couldn't.  
  
"You all right, Colt?"  
  
He looked up and met a pair of green-blue-gray eyes watching him curiously across the room. Colton blushed, eyes peeling away to stare at the carpet he knelt on. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right."  
  
"You were hacking like an eighty-year-old smoker," Phil murmured with a small smile. "Want some water or something?"  
  
"No."  
  
He heard Phil begin to cross the room in his stocking feet. "You sick?" The entire room seemed to shrink with each step he took. "This'd be a hell of a time to get laryngitis, man. We got the Top 7 this week. Again."  
  
"Yeah. It's, uh...it's gonna be rough."  
  
As Phil squatted down next to him on the floor, Colton tried his hardest to keep his eyes away. It didn't matter. He could smell the sharpness of Phil's soap from his recent shower, and his peripheral vision gladly highlighted and emphasized the shape of Phil's thigh through his jeans. It only took Phil rifling through his baggy pocket for Colton to fold and glance over, letting his eyes sweep straight up the man's figure from foot to collarbone. "Think about what song you're gonna do yet?"  
  
Colton's entire body leaned in a little closer when Phil held the massive song list out in front of them, but the tiny type fuzzed in front of his eyes. His cells were stretching their little hands out as they tried to catch even a little trace of Phil's body heat through his shirt. Even as he turned his head just a little, just enough to put him a millimeter closer to Phil's smooth neck, he found his breath catching.  
  
This was bad. He had to get out of here.  
  
"Colt?"  
  
"'Bad Romance,'" he murmured on instinct. As he flicked his eyes to meet Phil's, he saw the way that Phil was furrowing his eyebrows in concern. "I could...maybe do that one."  
  
"...yeah." Maybe Colton imagined it, but he could swear that Phil swept his eyes over his entire face as he breathed out the word. Maybe even lingered on his lips. Colton's face flushed. "Y'know, I swear to God, I think you have a fever."  
  
God. Colton could feel his crucifix almost burning him through his shirt. He huffed out a quick rush of air and immediately leaned away again, so fast he almost fell on his face from where he knelt. "I-I do feel kind of woozy."  
  
"Shit," Phil muttered, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Kid, we gotta get some fluids in you. Soup, maybe, or orange juice? I'unno. I'm not letting you get sick this week."  
  
His heart froze in his chest. "Why?"  
  
Phil shook his head. "You can't." And then he gave Colton a little half-smile that had his entire body pulsing in a weird sort of pleasure. "I already lost Heejun. You get out of here, what do I have left?" He chuckled as he came to his feet and held a hand out to help Colton up. "Eh, it doesn't matter. You're not going anywhere."  
  
Colton's eyes darted to Phil's hand, and he gulped before he grabbed it. He felt his whole arm sear in flames. "You don't know that."  
  
"You've never even been in the bottom two," he said as he dragged Colton to his feet. "And, c'mon, let's be honest, the chicks love you."  
  
Funny how that worked, wasn't it.  
  
"You wanna do 'Bad Romance'? Fine. Do it. Dress up in some leather and tight pants, spike your hair, and those girls aren't _ever_ gonna let you go home." Phil smirked as he reached up to tousle Colton's hair, and Colton bobbed away with a chuckle as he batted at his hand. "Whoa, steady, I'm taking you to bed, remember?"  
  
Dear Lord, Phil was taking him to bed. Colton nodded and swayed once more, just once, to make Phil reach out and throw an arm around his shoulders. "You got better things to do than play nursemaid, man."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
It only took him six days to regret never finishing The Lord's Prayer. Cold, lonely sheets could do that to a broken man.


End file.
